Even to the blind of Kamatipura District you clearly come from posh Malabar, blue school uniform, braided hair, the polished book satchel slung at your side like a little sister, but you said yes to a ride on the hand cranked Ferris wheel. The rusted frame is no largerthan a full moon over Deharmshal Road, it turns lazily and almost not at all. How lucky that you were not thirsty for cane juice afterwards, for my few coins were all gone to the wind. Next day, my classmates tease, but I will not tell them your name. Cruelly, they suggest I should give any remaining rupees to the legless man who begs outside our school.